The Bad Boy and The Sheriff's Son
by nedcans
Summary: Alfred F. Jones, son of the local sheriff Tommy Jones, thinks he has a pretty good life. That is, until he falls for the one person in town his father has forbidden contact with: Ivan Braginsky, the infamous school dropout and local bad boy.
1. Chapter 1

The first time Alfred met Ivan was when he was buying Matt a box of Kraft Mac and Cheese.

Matt had had the flu, and he was finally able to eat again, and he had a craving in the early hours of the morning one April day. So Alfred, the wonderful and heroic older brother, ran to the grocery store a few blocks away to get the cheesy, processed goodness his brother needed to feel better. He grabbed the blue and yellow box off the shelf, and whipped around to make a break for the register, only to run face first into a near literal wall of a human being.

"Oh, crap, man, I'm really sorry! I didn't know you were behind me!" Alfred apologized to the man, craning his neck to look up at him. He had to be at least 6 feet tall, and he looked vaguely familar. "It's no problem. I shouldn't have been so close to you." The man replied. He had a very thick accent. He sounded Russian, or Ukrainian, or somewhere else communist like that.

"Don't worry about it. Glad we sorted this out." Alfred gripped the mac and cheese, wanting to get home to his still pretty sick brother as fast as possible. He was almost out of the aisle when the man he had ran into called to him.

"Hey. You're the sheriff's son, aren't you? I thought I had recognized you." The man said, and Alfred turned around. "Yep, I'm Alfred Jones." He looked the man in the eyes, and suddenly realized who he was talking to.

"You're Ivan Braginsky. You've been basically a legend at school since you dropped out. It's kind of an honor to meet you." Alfred said, and Ivan scoffed slightly. "What have they been saying about me since I've been gone?" he asked. "Just your basic rumor mill stuff. Ranging from you do drugs to you killed a man. Never heard anything about you hanging out at the Grocery Mart at 3 AM though." Alfred laughed, which caused Ivan to smirk.

"I hate to ruin your image of me, but, I work the graveyard shift here." Ivan said, and pointed to a nametag on his chest. "Damn, I had my money on you running a dog fighting ring. I'll keep the mystery alive around MF High, though." Alfred smiled, and turned and went to check out his brother's Kraft Mac and Cheese.

"I swear to you Mattie. I saw Ivan Braginsky working at the Grocery Mart." Alfred said to his brother while he ate his Mac and Cheese. "Ivan Braginsky isn't real, the upperclassmen made him up as a senior prank." Matt said, shoving a spoonful of Kraft into his mouth. "No way. Arthur had math class with him last year before he dropped out. You didn't even go to Millard Fillmore when Ivan did, how would you know?" Alfred asked. Ivan Braginsky was definitely real- Alfred had went to school with him, and Sheriff Tommy Jones had arrested him once. "Well, Jan said that he heard from Emil, who heard from his older brother Lukas, who's a senior, that Mathias Kohler completely made Ivan Braginsky up as their big senior prank." Matt said, sounding like he completely believed what he was saying.

"Jan and Emil are freshmen. You are a freshman. Nothing you say is ever right, shut your face." Alfred said, defiantly. "But-" "But nothing. Ivan is real, eat your macaroni." Alfred said, and that was the final word about that.

The next day at breakfast, Matt asked Tommy about Ivan, only to hear for a second time that the Russian wasn't just a construction of Mathias's diseased mind.

The second time Alfred met Ivan was at Mathias's graduation party a few weeks later. Alfred always ended up going to these sort of big parties as a sort of police insurance- no officer would bust a party that Alfred F. Jones was attending, lest Sheriff Jones raise hell. And if they did bust it, Alfred was often friendly enough with whatever officer doing the busting that the partygoers would get off with a warning to turn down the music and put away the alcohol. It was a pretty sweet deal; this made Alfred one of the most well liked guys in school. That extended to his somewhat awkward younger brother, and made his life easier, which made Alfred happy.

However, being insurance meant Alfred couldn't very well drink- if an officer showed up and Alfred was drunk, not only was the whole party busted, Alfred would be grounded for life. That wasn't really a concern of Alfred's though; drinking in crowds wasn't his style.

Alfred liked to hang out outside at these sort of parties. Inside was cramped, and smelled like a bad combination of sweat, alcohol, and puke. He leaned against the porch, sipping a red cup full of Coke. Graduation parties were lame, he thought. There was always a sense of 'oh shit, we have no idea what we're doing after this' lingering over them. Next year, when he threw the big party, there wouldn't be that.

Alfred was making his own party plans when he heard a voice from the door. "The sheriff's son, at a big party full of alcohol? I'm shocked." Alfred looked up to see that the voice belonged to Ivan Braginsky (though he probably could have figured that out otherwise, it wasn't like there were that many Russians in their small Texas town.)

"Contrary to what you might think, I keep the cops away." Alfred said. "Well, there is that stereotype that cop kids are always the rowdiest. What are you drinking?" Ivan asked, and joined Alfred against the porch. "Coke, surprisingly. I'm not much of a partier." Alfred laughed, and showed Ivan the contents of his cup. "Really? Me either. Must be just as surprising." Ivan tipped his cup over just enough that Alfred could see it's contents. "Vodka? How stereotypical." Alfred smiled, and that made Ivan laugh. "No. Water. Getting drunk isn't a risk I want to take."

"No shit. Everyone in this town seems to have it out for you. My dad would probably arrest you for jaywalking." Alfred said, and Ivan nodded. "It's because I'm Russian, isn't it?" He took a drink of his water. "Nah. It's because you're Russian AND a dropout. They could probably tolerate one or the other, but both is a little much." Alfred joked, and Ivan laughed softly.

The two continued to make small talk, but, the cops showed up around 1:30. So Alfred booked it to the front yard to try to get the boys in blue away from the party, which he did successfully, of course. The officer who showed up was the rookie Officer Ramirez, who had a visa on the line, and didn't want to risk pissing off his boss's son. When Alfred made his way back to the porch, amid the chaos of a dozen drunk teenagers all trying to thank him, Ivan was gone. Alfred just shrugged, finished off his Coke, and headed back home.

The third time was the charm. It was the first week of June. It was the typical Texas summer; hot, dry, and all around uncomfortable. Alfred, who was too hot to sleep, headed down to the Grocery Mart to pick up a tub of ice cream for him and Matt, hoping that the cold treat would keep them from having heat strokes.

Ivan was in the freezer aisle, basking in the wonderful cold that radiated out of an open freezer. Alfred smiled, and opened the freezer next to him to get his ice cream. Moose tracks for Matt, Neapolitan for Alfred. Ivan looked over at Alfred, caught his eye, and raised an eyebrow. "What? I'm Russian. We don't handle the heat well." He said, like what he was doing was perfectly normal.

"Then why did you move to the fucking Mexican-American border? Alaska would be a much better choice." Alfred said with a laugh. "Parents found work in El Paso. This little town was close, and cheap. I would have preferred to stay in Moscow, personally." Ivan replied. "Nah, you're the most interesting guy in this little shit hole." Alfred smiled, and threw his ice cream in his shopping basket. "You barely know me, Sheriff's Son. I'm not so very interesting." Ivan said, and Alfred could almost hear an eye-roll in his statement. "Dude, people are saying you're in the Russian Mafia, or that you were in the KGB. You've lived here 2 years, and you're still a mystery. Pretty interesting to me." Alfred said, and he left, concerned that his ice cream would melt.

However, Alfred didn't get very far before he turned back and went to speak to the Russian again. "Hey, you guys got chocolate syrup? And sprinkles?" He asked him. "Aisle 9 is where our sundae supplies are." Ivan said, without even pulling his head out of the freezer.

So Alfred headed to aisle 9, but, he couldn't find what he wanted. So, he went back to Ivan. "Couldn't find them. Mind pointing them out to me?" Alfred asked, and Ivan pulled out of the freezer and shut the door, and beckoned for Alfred to come with him.

On the walk to aisle 9, Alfred couldn't help but notice how extremely uncomfortable Ivan looked. He was sweaty, and looked angry enough to kill someone. "You all right?" Alfred asked when they stopped at the beginning of the aisle. "It is just so damn hot, even inside." Ivan complained. "Welcome to Texas, big guy. Maybe it would help if you didn't wear that big scarf in the 120 degree weather?" Alfred suggested, his eyes falling to the off-white, slightly dirty scarf that hung around Ivan's neck. It was a strange sight, seeing someone sweating in cargo shorts, a wife beater, and a winter scarf. "I'm a bit, er, sentimental about it. I'd rather leave it on and suffer." Ivan sounded like he didn't want to talk about that subject, so Alfred dropped it. Ivan found the sundae ingredients in a somewhat awkward silence, and handed them to Alfred.

And then, for some reason he didn't know quite then, Alfred gave Ivan one of his most charming southern gentleman smiles, and said, "You know, if you can get out of that freezer without melting, we should hang out sometime. I think you're cool, and it's a bit hard to maintain a friendship if I only get to see you when my brother is having late night cravings." Ivan smiled back at Alfred, (though he didn't quite have the level of charm that Alfred did,) and said, "We could do that. Here, I'll check you out."

Ivan walked with Alfred up to the checkout counter, and rang up his items. "I've got something of a day job, so I don't know when I'll be free to hang out." Ivan said as he bagged the ice cream and other things. "That's fine. You got a pen?" Alfred asked, and Ivan nodded, handing him a pen over the register. Alfred took it, then reached out for Ivan's hand. Ivan jumped a little bit, but allowed Alfred to take it after a moment of hesitation. Alfred wrote his number on the back of Ivan's hand, and wrote 'ALFRED' in capital letters underneath it.

"That's my cell. Shoot me a call or a text any time you're free to chill." Alfred said, still turning up the charm. Ivan smiled, nodded, and handed Alfred his bags. Alfred rushed out if the store, wanting to get home before his ice cream melted, but he waved a quick goodbye to Ivan before going.


	2. Chapter 2

A week later, Alfred hadn't heard anything from Ivan. So, of course, he jumped at the chance to run down to the Grocery Mart when Matt complained that they were out of Frosted Flakes. Once he was at the store, he grabbed the blue box, and went straight to the freezer section, knowing who he'd find there.

"You know, I had an inkling you'd be here. Standing in front of an open freezer, once again." Alfred said, smiling the same southern gentleman's smile he had last time he met Ivan. "If this is about me not calling, I can explain." Ivan said, pulling his head out of the freezer. "I'm not some girl who cries when her boyfriend doesn't call back, my bro just wanted some Frosted Flakes." Alfred teased. "You have them, and I doubt you got them from the freezer aisle. I think you're here to, what did you call it? 'Cry when your boyfriend didn't call?'" Ivan laughed.

"Okay, maybe I'm just a touch offended that we haven't hung out yet." Alfred admitted, leaning onto the glass of a freezer. "I told you, Alfred. I have a day job, it's not so easy for me to get off. And I just cleaned those." Ivan told him, and pulled him off the glass with a glare. "You should take some time off. It isn't healthy to work all day and all night. You'll get sick, and you don't get free healthcare here. We aren't commies like you Russians." Alfred joked, and Ivan laughed. "You're grossly overestimating the Russian healthcare system."

"Still, though. You outta take some vacation time. If you have an aneurism, I'll never forgive myself." Alfred said, looking Ivan in his eyes. "I won't have an aneurism. Thanks for your concern, though." Ivan said. "Au contraire, Braginsky. How many hours of sleep do you get a day?" Alfred asked. "3, on a good night. I don't work Sundays, though, so I can get a good 12 hours, then." Ivan replied, and Alfred laughed. "You'll definitely have an aneurism."

Ivan groaned, and went back to the freezer. "The air conditioning is broken here, the air conditioning is broken in my car, it barely works at my house. I'm more worried about having a heat stroke than an aneurism." It was just an offhand comment, but it gave Alfred an idea. "The AC at my house is working just fine. Cold as a Siberian winter. But, of course, you'd know that if you hung out with me."  
Alfred said, peeking around the freezer door to see Ivan's face. "You're bribing me with the promise of cold air? That's low, Alfred." Ivan said. "But will it work?" Alfred grinned hopefully.

"Why are you so interested in being my friend anyways? It's not like I'm a very popular person." Ivan said, shutting the door of the freezer and looking Alfred in the eyes. "Let's just say, I don't go on midnight Frosted Flakes runs just to please my brother- though I do love seeing the little scamp happy. I like you, Ivan. You're a cool guy. Plus, I feel bad that you work graveyard and still have to sweat through your shift." Alfred flashed his smile to Ivan, and waited for his response.

Ivan sighed, and smiled back. "I have a day off next week. I was going to spend it sleeping, but, what can I say? Your bribe won me over. Is Thursday a good day?" he asked, and Alfred nodded. "Every day is fine with me, big guy. Thursday is really good, because my dad generally works extra late on Thursdays. And, well, every day ending in –y. But especially Thursdays. Either way, he won't be there to bitch at me and possible entrap you for something." Alfred said, and for some reason, he was tripping over his words.

"That's good, I would like to stay out of jail." Ivan smiled. Alfred was about to open his mouth to say something, when his phone vibrated in his pocket. "Shit, how long have we been talking?" Alfred asked Ivan, who shrugged and opened the freezer back up. Alfred pulled his phone out of his pocket, cringing when he saw both the time (4:30 AM) and the person calling him (his dad.) He unlocked his phone, and answered as quickly as possible.

"Yes, sir?" Alfred asked, knowing he was probably in trouble. "Where are you, son?" Tommy asked. He used his interrogation voice, and Alfred was sure that he knew that voice better than the people in jail did. "Mattie was mad we were out of Frosted Flakes, so I ran down to the Grocery Mart to get them. I just want to make him happy, sir, you know he isn't happy." Alfred decided to take the 'lying through his teeth' option. "Mattie's asleep, Alfred." Tommy said. "Makes me run down to the store and can't even stay awake for the 30 minutes it'll take me? What a little brat." Alfred joked. "Come home, boy." Tommy said. "Yes, sir."

As soon as Alfred hung up the phone, Ivan laughed. "Shut up, Red." Alfred said, mocking an offended tone. "Yes, sir." Ivan said in an exaggerated southern accent. Alfred glared at Ivan for a moment before they both cracked grins and laughed together. "Shit, I gotta buy this and get home." Alfred said once they had stopped laughing. "Want me to check you out?" Ivan asked, and Alfred nodded. "Yeah. The crazy chick is the only other person on checkout. One time she yelled at me because I had a zit on my forehead and she told me it looked too much like a bindi, and I was culturally appropriating the Indian culture," he laughed as they walked to the registers.

Ivan checked out the cereal, and bagged it, and handed it to Alfred. "Your total is 4.24." Ivan said, and Alfred handed over a 5. "So, Thursday, right? At my place?" Alfred asked, and Ivan nodded as he put the cash in the register. "You know where I live, don't you?" Alfred asked. "I was going to figure that out later. 76 cents is your change." Ivan smiled. "Alright. Give me that pen again." Alfred said, and Ivan handed it over. He took Ivan's hand and wrote his address down on it, once again signing it with 'ALFRED.'

"What time are we talking about doing this? I've gotta get my brother to a hockey game in El Paso at 7." Alfred said. "I would like to get some sleep in before I come to work here. So I can be gone before 7." Ivan said, smiling. "So, I'd say you could come over 2 or 3?" Alfred asked, and Ivan nodded. "2 is good." Ivan said, and Alfred grinned. "Great. I'll see you in 3 days, at 2, for a little bro-to-bro bonding time," he said, and Ivan laughed. "Go home, Alfred."

So Alfred did go home. And Tommy gave him a lecture about going out in the middle of the night, about the dangers he could run into (which was BS- their small town was one of the safest in the country.) Tommy said that Alfred was grounded, but that didn't mean much. Tommy was never home to enforce it, so, really wasn't a big deal.

The next morning, after Tommy left, Matt ate his Frosted Flakes, and Alfred glared at him. "You little traitor." Alfred grumbled. "You were gone for like, an hour and a half! I wasn't gonna stay up until 5 just to get Frosted Flakes." Matt complained in between spoonfuls. "I wasn't gone that long." Alfred argued. "Yes, you were. You left at 3. What, did you see your boyfriend Ivan at the store and stop to make out?" Matt teased. "Shut the fuck up, Matt, you're disgusting. Me and Ivan are just bros." Alfred said, punching Matt on the arm, and going up to his room.


End file.
